


Attached

by paperscribe



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magical Realism, Psychic Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-02 23:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 9,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2830598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperscribe/pseuds/paperscribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a universe where saying "I love you" can connect you to someone forever, Robbie Lewis returns to Oxford still mourning his broken attachment to his wife Valerie.  But his new sergeant James Hathaway may complicate his life in a way neither of them could foresee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Robbie trudged through the airport, trying not to think how nervous he was to be going home.

He'd left Oxford for his health, of course. After Val had died, the endless, echoing silences both inside and out had got to be too much for him. The only thing he could think to do was to go somewhere he and Val had never lived. His doctor had confirmed the necessity of such a move, saying, "Given the trouble you've had lately, it's probably best to remove yourself from the situation that gave rise to it." As though removing all trace of his attachment to Val could be brought about just by going to the bloody tropics. The doctor had meant well; Robbie knew that. But he hadn't understood. No one understood, really.

Robbie could pick out the bloke Oxford CID had sent to meet him a mile away, and he slowed his pace to get a good look at the other man before he had to talk to him. The lad was young, with an air of gravity but also a faint look of cheer. Robbie wondered if the latter was feigned to try to improve his homecoming. He'd rather have dealt with someone gloomy; at least that would've matched his mood.

The young bloke had noticed the attention Robbie had paid him, which spoke well for his future as a copper. "Are you Inspector Lewis?"

"Aye, that's me," Robbie said. "And you are?"

"James Hathaway," the lad said, with a nod that seemed to give nothing away.

"DC?" Robbie guessed.

"DS," James said, with only the slightest grimace to indicate that his youth meant he was underestimated all the time.

Robbie winced. "Sorry."

"It's all right," James said. "They didn't know who was coming to get you, so they couldn't tell you it would be me. Have you got your bags?"

Robbie nodded. The last thing he wanted to do right now was talk to anyone, but he had the feeling he wouldn't be able to avoid it.

"My car's outside," James said. Then he hesitated. "Is there…anywhere you'd like to go before you go home?"

Robbie resisted the urge to say that he wasn't going home, that home didn't exist any more. He knew what James was getting at, and the thought of it made him feel a bit unwell. "You mean the cemetery."

"I thought you might like to pay your respects," James said, solemn as a priest at a funeral.

Robbie sighed. "They didn't tell you, did they?"

For the first time, James's face showed real, unmediated emotion--namely, alarm. "Tell me what?"

"I'm attached," Robbie said wearily. "Or I was." He waited as the words sank in, as James realised his gaffe.

"Oh," James stammered. "I'm so sorry."

"So am I," Robbie said. "What about you?"

James shook his head with an awkward jerk. "No, my…no."

"Right. Then I'll give you the quick talk," Robbie said. "My wife and I had a complete attachment, which is brilliant till the day it breaks. It's got to the point where it's mostly all right, but if I were in the same place with her…" He shuddered inwardly, remembering the horrible absence he'd felt when she'd gone. "Any questions?"

"If you mean that," James said, "then yes, I do have one."

Robbie didn't mean it, not really, but he supposed it was too late to back out of the offer now. "Go on."

"What does it feel like?" James asked. "Being attached to someone?"

That wasn't the question Robbie had expected. "I've heard it feels different for everyone. For me, it was a feeling somewhere in my chest. A warmth. And I could feel without asking that she was there on the other side." Until the day she'd gone, and then, when he'd forgotten and had tried to feel for her, there had been only emptiness. Emptiness like that could drive a man mad, and it almost had done in his case. Robbie rarely reached out through their broken attachment any more, but he knew he would if they visited her grave, and that could be dangerous.

"Was it nice?" James asked, looking as though he couldn't quite believe it.

Robbie nodded. "Till it wasn't." He cleared his throat. "Come on. We can't stay at the airport all day."

"No, sir," James said, and unless Robbie was imagining things, he thought he heard a smile in James's voice.

Perhaps James might not be so bad after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Innocent only allowed Robbie to resume his duties given the understanding that Robbie would attend a support group for attached people who'd lost their spouses. Robbie felt daft doing it, but he had to go if he wanted to work, and he did want to work.

He hated the support group. All it did was remind him of his own misery through other people's. They only thing he liked about it was that no one had to explain to anyone else in the room what it was like to have an attachment broken. They'd all felt it.

More and more, Robbie found himself thinking of Morse--Morse, who'd barely admitted being attached. "It was a different time, Lewis. We didn't talk about it," he'd told Lewis once in a rare moment of candour. It wasn't until later that Robbie had found out Morse still had an incomplete attachment to a woman from his past. They'd both said "I love you," but Morse was the only one who'd been emotionally and physically bound by the words.

At the time he'd found out, Robbie'd had a complete attachment with Val--he'd loved her and she'd loved him back--and the thought of an incomplete attachment, where you loved another person who didn't love you, had been horrifying to him. Sometimes, Robbie wondered if it hadn't been the strain of years of unrequited love that had killed Morse, his ailments physical manifestations of the turmoil he'd had inside. Robbie's attachment to Val was broken, but he at least had memories of the bond they had shared once, while Morse…Morse had had nothing.

As Robbie's new partner, James was aware that Robbie was attending the support group. Without being asked, James would wait outside for Robbie after his weekly meeting was over, and they always went for a tea or a pint after, while James chatted about nothing in particular. It had taken Robbie a few weeks to realise that James wasn't doing this to be annoying. James, Robbie realised, was trying to take Robbie's mind off the sadness and grief that inevitably surfaced in the support group every week. He was helping the only way he knew how.

Robbie began paying for James's drinks. It wasn't much, but he hoped James understood that it was his way of saying thank you.


	3. Chapter 3

"It's none of my business," James said, in a tone that indicated he was going to say something anyway, "but I think our forensic pathologist fancies you."

"What, Laura Hobson?" Robbie said.

James nodded. 

"Good job she's not attached then," Robbie said. "I don't date." 

"Yeah, but you could, couldn't you?" James asked.

"I suppose," Robbie said, "but with no chance of attaching again, it all seems a bit pointless."

James frowned. "No chance?"

Robbie shook his head. "We can't attach more than once."

James's frown deepened. "But I'm sure I've read somewhere that attached people can only have one active attachment at a time, not one attachment ever."

Robbie raised his eyebrows, wondering if James understood how irritating it was to have one's lived experience second-guessed by someone with no experience of the subject who read a lot.

Apparently James did, because he ducked his head uncomfortably. "Sorry."

"It's all right," Robbie said. "At least you're not like my last partner in Oxford. She used to say, 'Are you sure you're not attached to me?' I was never quite sure if she thought she was flirting or being funny."

James pulled a face. "I'm so sorry."

Robbie shrugged. "At least I've got you now." 

James nearly smiled at that. "Something else I was reading said that there seem to be fewer attached people among the young, and no one knows why."

"I know why," Robbie said. "It's because it's not bloody safe being attached. Someone with an incomplete or broken attachment might never be healthy again. Suppose I was lucky, in a way, not to have more problems than I did."

James nodded silently, then tapped Lewis's bottle of beer. "Do you want another?"

Robbie stood. "I'll get the next round."

James smiled, nodding his acceptance of Robbie's offer. "Sir, be honest. You do this because you love me, don't you?"

Robbie chuckled. "Course I love you. What's your point?"

James smiled, a real smile this time, and shook his head. "I don't have one."

"In that case, I'll get our drinks," Robbie said.


	4. Chapter 4

Robbie woke shivering beneath a pile of blankets. At first, he thought he might be ill, but the thermometer showed his temperature was normal. Then he wondered if he'd caught a chill somewhere, and took a hot shower, but even the hottest water couldn't seem to warm the cold inside him.

He was back in bed, trying to warm up, when he suddenly felt the ache of an unreciprocated attachment. When he and Val had been attached, he'd felt his bond almost as a silent reaching out-- _are you there?_ \--and feeling a corresponding _yes_. Even after Val had died, the reaching-out sensation of the attachment had felt the same, though it had only found silence and emptiness on the other end.

This was different. There was a desperation to it--not _are you there_ , but _where are you?_ There was no answer.

But why would his broken bond begin to feel different now? Val had been gone for years. The way he'd connected to her shouldn't have changed, especially not after she'd died. And this felt entirely different, almost as if…

…almost as if he'd attached to someone else. Incompletely.

No. This wasn't possible, was it? Robbie couldn't have attached to someone else without knowing it. Besides, he'd have to have said "I love you," and the only person he'd said that to lately was…oh, arse. He'd said it to James. 

He'd got careless; that was what had happened. He'd been attached to Val so long that he'd been able to say "I love you" to anyone he wanted to, joking or not, without thinking about it. And even afterward, he'd been lax, secure in the knowledge that he couldn't attach again, so he could say what he liked when he liked. He could even make a joke about loving James…a joke that seemed now not to have been a joke after all.

This was the worst possible scenario, wasn't it? James had been the one to suggest that Robbie might be able to attach to someone else, and as it turned out, he'd been right. For that reason alone, Robbie would never be able to tell James what he'd done, the mistake he'd made.

There was also the matter of James being his partner at work. Telling James that he would grow terribly ill if James didn't complete his attachment was the worst sort of coercion; Robbie felt that doing that would make him the sort of person he despised, the sort of person who used his position and authority for his own gain. 

Besides which, James didn't love him. No reason to come up with so many excuses not to tell James when 'James doesn't love me' was the only one he needed, and the most important one.

Robbie shivered, closing his eyes. This new attachment of his was an annoyance, but it wouldn't be a problem. Robbie wouldn't let it become one. James would never know, and Robbie would deal with his side of things. Morse had done the same, hadn't he? Robbie would manage.

The last thing he felt before he fell asleep was the sensation of his attachment reaching out, calling _where are you?_

Nothing.


	5. Chapter 5

In the months that followed Robbie's accidental attachment, Robbie tried to tell himself that having an incomplete attachment wasn't that different from having a broken one. There were a few differences; the bond was a different strength, and Robbie found that he had the sensation of being cold more often, no matter what the temperature was in the room.

The one side-effect of the attachment that Robbie found most difficult to deal with was the ache. He never knew when it would come or go, but at certain times, he felt a need for James so strong that it created a physical ache in his body. Robbie's declaration of love hadn't exactly been in earnest, but apparently it had been true enough for an attachment to form, and there were times when the need to complete the attachment was so intense that Robbie nearly cried out with the pain of it. He hated feeling helpless, and his current condition felt like nothing but helplessness. He needed James to love him, and James could never know that.

James sensed that something was different, and made a few indirect queries about it, but Robbie assured him everything was fine and said he was tired. He was tired; that much was true. He suspected it was from the energy he was losing through his incomplete bond. Nothing he could do about that either.

So many nights, after he'd been in bed, curling his body round the pain, he'd picked up his mobile and considered calling James. But he never did. He wanted to fix this, but it was his own stupid mistake that had put him in this position, and it wasn't James's fault that Robbie had made this mistake. So Robbie always put the mobile away. He would have to learn to do this on his own. There must be some way.

Robbie had learnt long ago how to endure in the face of difficulties. So he endured.


	6. Chapter 6

Robbie had been over the transcript of the witness's remarks three times before he found the discrepancy. He poked the page with a triumphant flourish, looking up to share the news with James…but James wasn't there. He must've popped out for a cigarette.

Robbie went to push through the exit door at the back, but the door only opened a few inches before it bumped into something. Robbie sighed in frustration and was about to try to force the door open to push the blockage away--he suspected it was a misplaced rubbish bin--when he heard a voice he recognised. The speaker was Fiona McKendrick, one of James's fellow sergeants.

"Does anyone know?" she asked.

"Of course not," James said, an edge to his voice. "You asked me to be discreet. I've been discreet."

"I'm sorry," Fiona said. "Only there's a cliche about women sleeping their way to the top, and I don't want people to think that's what I'm doing."

"It can't be what you're doing," James said. "Or you'd be sleeping with someone higher in the hierarchy. As it is, you're sleeping your way directly to the middle."

Fiona laughed softly, and then there was silence.

Robbie closed the door soundlessly, his heart pounding in his ears. It couldn't be true. He and James were together all the time. James would've told him he was in a relationship, wouldn't he?

Right. James would've told Robbie he was involved with Fiona, just like Robbie had instantly told James when he'd attached to him. They were both so terribly ready to share private business with each other.

Robbie hurried back to his office. He didn't want James to walk in and know he'd been eavesdropping. God, Robbie couldn't tell the truth for toffee, could he? There were so many lies built up between him and James that Robbie felt as though they could barely see each other (and a good part of that was his fault). Of course, as he hadn't even begun to guess that James and Fiona were an item, Robbie wondered if he had ever seen James clearly at all.

Robbie knew it was stupid even to think of it, but he'd somehow held out hope that something might happen between him and James, against all odds…that they might be able to have some sort of complete connection after all, given time. But now all he could feel was that ache of disconnection in his chest, and all he could think was, _too late._ Because it was. James had found someone of his own, and Robbie would become unnecessary to him, if he hadn't already.

When James returned to the office, he asked, "Have you found anything in the transcript?"

Robbie nodded, handing James the folder. The moment of discovery was ruined; there was no pleasure in it any longer.

James frowned at Robbie. "Why have you got your coat on?"

Robbie pulled the coat closer, even though it did absolutely nothing to warm him. "I'm cold."

So cold.


	7. Chapter 7

Robbie was falling apart.

The occasional ache inside him had become a neverending ache over the months since he'd accidentally found out about James and Fiona, and the ache seemed to have spread to every muscle in his body. He'd been tired before, but now, because of the constant pain he was in, he could only sleep a few hours each night, which meant he was both exhausted and in pain when he was at work. He could barely concentrate, and he knew he wasn't as useful at work as he should be, but his job was the only thing he had left to hold on to. Without it, Robbie didn't think he would be able to get out of bed.

He knew James was carrying him, which was particularly galling. Robbie was bloody embarrassed that his sergeant did a good portion of his work and let other people believe it was an equal effort. He was embarrassed that he needed help and embarrassed that he couldn't ask for it.

The truth was, he had no idea what to do. He couldn't go on the way he was, and he couldn't change. He was stuck, and there was no one he could tell about it.

Then, one morning, he was on his way to the tea room when his legs refused to hold him any longer. They simply gave way gracefully beneath him, and Robbie found himself lying on his side on the floor, wondering if he had the energy to stand.

"Sir?" James's panicked voice cut through the hubbub, and in another moment, James was kneeling beside him.

"I'm sorry," Robbie said. "I'll get up."

"No, stay still a moment. Let me make sure you're all right," James said.

Robbie winced, eyes closing. That was just what he needed--James thinking he was damaged in some way.

James misunderstood. "What hurts?"

"Everything," Robbie said.

"Sir, with all due respect…"

"Just help me back into the office, will you, James?" Robbie could hear the plea in his own voice, and hated the sound of it.

But it worked. Without a word, James helped Robbie get to his feet, and they made their way back into the office. Robbie could barely walk; his legs were stiff and cramped as he hobbled along, and he sighed in relief as James helped him into his office chair.

James was silent a long time, and Robbie steeled himself for the lecture he knew must be coming.

"This can't go on," James said.

Robbie nodded. "I know."

James's jaw worked as he seemed to consider his next step. "Will you agree to see a doctor?"

"It wouldn't help," Robbie said.

The tension in James's posture increased. "You're not well."

"And I already know why," Robbie said.

James stared at him. "You do?"

Robbie nodded.

James seemed to wilt. He looked defeated for some reason. "It's an incomplete attachment."

Robbie sighed. "I didn't want you to know."

"There's no shame in it."

"Not to you maybe."

James frowned. "Well, is it someone who…"

This was excruciating. Better to have it over with. "It's you, James. I'm attached to you."

James seemed to freeze. "You're…what?"

"Yes," Robbie said. Maybe now at least the string of humiliations associated with this situation would finally end.

James wet his lips. "Sir, that's very flattering, but I--"

"You're with Fiona," Robbie said. "I know."

"You know?" James's eyes widened.

"I've known for months, man," Robbie said.

"You never said anything."

"You didn't want anyone to know," Robbie said. "I was trying to keep it quiet, like. The way you wanted." He exhaled slowly as another wave of pain travelled through his body.

"Thank you," James said.

Robbie closed his eyes. He couldn't stand looking at James's face right now. "I'm sorry about this. I was trying not to bother you."

"Will you tell me something?" James asked. His voice was gentle, and Robbie mentally recoiled from the idea that he might be an object of pity for James now.

Robbie sighed, opening his eyes. "If I can."

"This attachment…if it stays incomplete, it'll kill you, won't it?"

He didn't want to answer that question, but an answer would only confirm what James had already figured out. "I think so. Eventually."

"There's no way for you to end the attachment."

Robbie shook his head.

James seemed to consider something for a long while, and he rubbed his hand over his hair as he paced back and forth. "What happens if I complete your attachment?"

"You can't. You don't love me."

"I don't want you to die," James said.

"Makes two of us," Robbie said, trying to turn the conversation away from himself.

James would have none of it. "You didn't answer my question. What happens if I complete your attachment?"

"Theoretically," Robbie said, "I'd start to feel better. You wouldn't feel anything."

"But if I continued to see Fiona," James said, "would that hurt you?"

Robbie didn't answer. James seeing Fiona might not damage an attachment between him and Robbie, but of course it would bloody hurt. Who wanted someone he loved to have someone else on the side? Robbie wanted to be enough for James. He wished he could've been. These days, he wished for so many things that would never happen. Too many things.

James pulled his chair close to Robbie and sat. "What do you want me to do?"

"Christ, James, I don't know," Robbie said, rubbing his eyes wearily. "I don't even know what I want me to do."

James nodded.

Robbie sighed. "If there's one thing I know, lad, it's that you can't complete an attachment by wishing."

James touched Robbie's hand, probably to try to comfort him. Because of the incomplete attachment, the touch sent a chill through Robbie, who couldn't help shivering.

"I love you," James said.

Impossibly, the chill that had pervaded Robbie's body for months began to ease. For the first time, there was a sense of communion between him and James; his silent call of _where are you?_ was met with an answer: _here. i'm here._

Robbie looked at James, who seemed to be studying Robbie to see if he responded.

"It worked," Robbie said, feeling a bit stunned.

James exhaled in a quiet whoosh, slumping back in his chair. "Good."

Robbie shook his head. "I don't understand. Why would you--?"

"I had to try," James said.

Robbie wasn't sure how much James understood about attachments. Did he know that some part of him must genuinely love Robbie for his gamble to have worked? 

"Well," Robbie said, "ta." It was such a deeply inadequate response that he felt almost impolite for giving it; however, all James did was nod in answer.

"Will you be all right now?" James asked, his worry apparent.

The answer to his question, however, was ridiculously complicated. Would Robbie be all right? What definition of all right was that? Would Robbie live? More than likely. Would the chills, body aches, and fatigue fade? Yes. But Robbie hadn't actually worked out how strong his attachment to James was; he'd been too busy trying to conceal it. Now that the attachment was complete, he was going to have to work out what it really meant…exactly what sort of love he was experiencing and whether it was the same as James's sort of love. At least now Robbie would have the luxury of knowing his mismatched attachment might be awkward and uncomfortable, but not fatal.

James interrupted Robbie's thoughts. "I'm taking you home."

Robbie shook his head, struggling to sit up straighter. "I'm fine."

"You collapsed less than an hour ago. You're not fine." James touched Robbie's hand, then moved his own hand away self-consciously. "Innocent will understand if I ask for the rest of the day to make sure you're all right."

Robbie knew James was right, but it hurt his pride a bit to have to be tended to. "I hate this."

James's expression softened, and he nodded. "I know, but…" He considered what he was about to say, thought better of it, and shook his head. "We've just completed your attachment after what? Months?"

Robbie nodded.

"Months of not feeling well," James said. "When you collapsed…" He didn't finish the sentence, but Robbie could read the rest on James's face--the collapse had frightened him. "I want to be sure you take the time you need to recover, since you didn't take the time you needed when you were ill." This with a pointed look at Robbie.

"I've already got someone to lecture me, thanks," Robbie said, thinking of all the emails about healthy eating and exercise he'd got from Lyn over the years.

"Well, clearly you need more of us, because just one isn't working," James quipped.

Robbie allowed himself a small smile. "Clearly."

James returned the smile. "Come on. Let's get you home."


	8. Chapter 8

Once Robbie was home and sprawled on the sofa, James asked, "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Actually, there is," Robbie said. "Ring Fiona and tell her where you are so she won't worry."

James shook his head. "There's no need."

"I promised myself I'd never be trouble for you and Fiona, and I'm going to keep that promise," Robbie said.

"No, I mean...we're not like that. She doesn't worry about me." James sat on the end of the sofa. "Actually, I'm not sure she thinks about me at all when I'm not there."

"I'm sure she does," Robbie said. "Something more than just your being there must've brought you together."

"Yes. I think it was the strength of my animal magnetism," James said, perfectly seriously.

Robbie smiled. "I wouldn't be surprised."

James smiled too. "You're being kind, I think." He paused. "Unless you're not. Sir, are you…is your attachment to me, well, physical in nature?"

"I don't know," Robbie said. "I've been so busy freezing my bollocks off I haven't had much time to think about it."

"Are you warmer now?" James asked.

Robbie nodded. "Still a bit cold, but only a bit, and the edge of it has gone."

"Good," James said. "Are you hungry?"

Robbie shook his head. "Tired mostly. Can I ask you something? About you and Fiona?"

James looked wary, but nodded his assent.

"Do you love her?"

"I don't know," James said. "I'm not sure I'm qualified to judge."

"Well, if you're not qualified, James, I don't know who is," Robbie said.

James nodded. "Exactly."

Sometimes Robbie had to admit that, even after working with James, he didn't understand James at all.

Robbie's exhaustion was beginning to catch up with him, and he found his eyelids drooping without his consent. "I think Fiona's stupid."

"She's not," James said immediately. "She's cleverer than I am."

"I mean she's stupid for not worrying about you," Robbie said. "If you were mine, I'd worry about you all the time."

Luckily, he saved James the embarrassment of having to respond by falling asleep almost immediately after he'd spoken.


	9. Chapter 9

Robbie jerked awake, disorientated by the daylight shining through the windows. Where was he? What time was it? Was he late for work?

"Sir? Are you all right?" James was standing over him, regarding him with some concern.

Robbie gestured for James to give him some space. "I'm fine, James. Not used to napping in the middle of the day." He glanced at the window. "It is the middle of the day?"

James nodded. "You've been asleep for three hours."

"Mm," Robbie said, suppressing a yawn. "Thought I might've slept until tomorrow."

"You could probably do with that much sleep," James said.

"Probably could," Robbie agreed.

"How do you feel now?"

Robbie took a moment to take stock. The chill that had kept him cold all the time seemed to have gone, and this attachment was…lukewarm, he'd call it. His body still ached a bit, but much less than it had done, and Robbie knew that, sleeping the way he'd just been sleeping, the fatigue would be gone before long as well.

"Better," he said.

James smiled. "Good. I thought of going out and getting something for us to eat, but I didn't want to leave you."

"Don't worry about me. I'm all right," Robbie said.

"You weren't this morning," James said, in his uniquely Jamesian way of supporting his own arguments without directly contradicting Robbie.

"No, well," Robbie said. "A lot's changed since this morning."

James hesitated, then asked, "If I leave you, will you go back to the way you were?"

Ah. That was why he hadn't gone to get food; he'd been afraid his absence might've given Robbie some sort of relapse.

"No, lad," Robbie said gently, making sure James wouldn't be embarrassed or think Robbie was mocking him for not knowing something. "Attachments don't depend on proximity. You can take that vacation to Fiji without me fainting or losing the ability to talk. Mind, Innocent probably wouldn't object if I lost the ability to talk."

"I think she would," James said, a glint of humour in his eyes. "You could hardly question suspects without a voice, could you?"

"I'm a champion mime, me," Robbie said. It felt good to be joking with James again, to have an attachment that so closely resembled the friendship they'd built together.

James snorted with laughter. "Of course you are, sir."

"You can stay," Robbie said. "For dinner, I mean. If you want to. If you don't, I've got frozen meals I can eat. The cupboard's not bare."

James hesitated, and Robbie wondered what he was trying to decide.

"I'm not trying to get you to leave," Robbie said. "Only I don't want to be an obligation."

"I wouldn't be here if you were only an obligation," James said.

Robbie knew that statement wasn't meant the way he'd like it to have been meant, but it made him feel a bit warm inside nonetheless. "Well, don't let me become one either."

"I won't," James said, "provided you tell me if I'm overstepping my bounds or outlasting my welcome."

Robbie nodded. "Of course."

"So," James said, "honestly. Do you want me to stay a bit longer?"

"If you've nothing else, I wouldn't mind the company." Robbie hoped he was striking the correct balance; he wanted to sound welcoming but not desperate. His life was generally a solitary one; usually the work stood in for outside entertainment and provided him with as much socialising as he wanted. Only sometimes, when he thought of the life he'd had once, his current life seemed a bit hollow.

"Then I'll stay," James said. "What do you reckon--takeaway, or should I cook for you?"

Robbie found the thought of someone cooking for him again unexpectedly affecting, but tried not to let it show on his face. "I would like to try your cooking sometime, but I'm not sure there's much you could do with what I've got."

James smiled. "O ye of little faith. I like a challenge." He crossed to the kitchen, and Robbie heard him rummaging in the fridge. "You've got quite a bit of frozen veg here."

"Promised Lyn I'd eat better, so I always buy some and then don't know what to do with it," Robbie admitted.

"You're lucky I'm here," James said, a smile in his voice.

Robbie thought he was as well.


	10. Chapter 10

Without either of them instituting it on purpose, James coming over for Friday night dinner at Robbie's flat became a tradition for them both.

After they'd been meeting every Friday evening for roughly a month, Robbie asked James, "Are you sure Fiona's all right with you spending Friday night at mine?"

James shrugged. "She likes to work Friday night. Says it looks good to Innocent, putting in the extra effort and showing initiative."

Robbie snorted. "Innocent's no fool. She'll know why Fiona is doing it."

"True, but if the work's done and you don't have to convince someone to do it, it's a valuable service whatever the reason," James said.

Robbie decided to let it alone (leave it alone, Morse would've said in an exasperated tone--even now, the ghost of Morse hovered over some of Robbie's grammatical choices). "Any reason you're not working Friday nights?"

"Someone might suspect we were a couple. And anyway, I'm not ambitious." James gave Robbie a wry smile. "I'm content to be a DS, wandering around taking orders from Chief Superintendent McKendrick."

Robbie nodded. "That was always how I felt about it. I did want to be a DI, but sometimes other things are more important."

"And now you are a DI," James said, tone a touch facetious.

"I am," Robbie said. Sometimes he wondered if he wouldn't rather be a sergeant and have some of the people back who'd been in his life in his sergeant days. Those had been good days.

"Not enough?" James asked, with one of those flashes of insight that made him such a bloody good copper.

"Most of the time it is," Robbie said, giving a non-answer answer that he knew James would understand.

And James did, nodding silently. "Oh. Thank you for the book you gave me. I'm reading it now."

"Not too bad, is it?" Robbie said.

"Not at all. It's embarrassing how little I knew about attachments before."

Robbie shrugged. "It's not unusual, especially if you don't have family who are attached."

James opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head.

"Go on," Robbie said.

"I did have," James said. "But I wasn't old enough to ask the questions."

Robbie nodded. He suspected the attached person in James's family had been a grandmam or granddad, most like. If James wanted to say more about it, he would; if not, that would be all right too. Robbie understood that theirs was not the type of friendship in which they'd tell each other everything; that they were telling each other anything was accomplishment enough for both of them.

James glanced at Robbie, giving him a lopsided smile. Robbie smiled back and tried very hard not to allow his heart to flutter at the sight.

Robbie was coming to the inescapable conclusion that his love for James was a romantic one. On long nights alone, he imagined James's arms around him, James's body lending his warmth. Sometimes, when they were watching telly, he wondered what might happen if James took his hand, or rested an arm round his shoulders, or fell asleep with his head against Robbie's shoulder, or kissed him.

James never did any of those things, of course. Thank God attachments didn't work like telepathy, because Robbie didn't know what he'd do if James ever found out even one of the situations Robbie was imagining. James was with Fiona, and if Robbie wished things could be otherwise, he never let James see that. James had already saved Robbie's life by completing an attachment that gave James no benefits whatsoever; Robbie had never expected that much, and he didn't need much reminding that he was grateful for it. Not much.

But there were times when James would tell a funny story about something he and Fiona had done and smile at the thought of her, and Robbie wished so badly that he could be the one James thought of when he smiled like that. It was greedy and selfish and wrong, and Robbie knew all that, but he couldn't erase the way he felt. It would be all right, though, long as he never acted on it. Because if he did, it would all go--James and drinks after support group meetings and Friday night dinners and everything. Robbie found he had come to need it all too much to let it go now.

Life was never perfect. But it could be good enough to stop you asking for more.


	11. Chapter 11

Robbie was cooking one night when he felt a jolt of pain travel across the attachment. James was hurt.

He used the sirens on his car and got to James's flat in five minutes, hopping to reach the key hidden atop the doorframe (bloody tall people). He let himself in, looking round. "James?"

"Sir?" James sounded surprised. He was in the bedroom and…oh, bugger. Robbie hadn't thought of that.

"Are…you're not alone, are you?" Robbie asked, face heating, backing hastily toward the door.

"I am, actually." James emerged from the bedroom, limping painfully. "Fiona won't be by until later. What, erm…what are you doing here?"

"I felt you hurt yourself," Robbie said, feeling his face heat further. "I'm sorry. I realise we should've worked out what to do if this happened, and I know I'm intruding, but all I could think was, what if you were lying there with a broken leg and no one to help you?" Or worse.

"It's all right," James said, giving Robbie a reassuring smile. "I'm glad you came. And you're welcome to find me if something like this happens again."

Robbie knew what James wasn't saying--that James understood why Robbie responded so strongly to any indication that the person he was attached to wasn't well. James might even have known how deathly afraid Robbie was of having another bond broken.

"Here," Robbie said, crossing to James. "Lean on me and I'll see you safely to the sofa."

James gave Robbie a grateful look, and together, they navigated to the sofa without further injuring James's foot.

"Cheers," James said with a sigh as he settled back against the sofa cushions.

"What happened?" Robbie asked, sitting beside him.

James's jaw clenched. "You'll laugh at me."

Robbie shook his head. "I won't."

"I stubbed my toe against the bedpost," James said. "Which wouldn't mean much ordinarily, but my bedposts are cast iron, very sturdy, and the same colour as the carpet, so I can't see them in my peripheral vision." He shrugged. "I broke one of my toes when I was younger, and it never healed properly. That's always the foot I bang into the bedpost."

Robbie winced in sympathy. "I'm sorry."

James looked sheepish. "So am I."

"You could turn the situation to your advantage," Robbie suggested. "Ask Fiona to come with you to pick out a new bed."

James shook his head. "I don't think she would. Too public. Besides, she thinks it's funny when I do this."

Robbie bit back a retort about what exactly he thought of Fiona.

James glanced at Robbie. "No comment?"

"It's not my place to say anything about you and Fiona," Robbie said firmly.

"Thank you," James said. He sighed. "Honestly, I think I may be in some trouble there."

"How do you mean?" Robbie asked.

"I think that whatever we've got, Fiona and I…I think it means more to me than it does to her. And I don't think there's anything to be done about it."

"Usually not," Robbie said, remembering how hopeless Lyn had felt when she'd worked out the same thing about her first boyfriend and her.

James laughed, and it was a bitter sound. "It's an incomplete attachment, isn't it? I can't attach, not like you can, but it's the same idea."

"In a way," Robbie said. At least James didn't run the risk of dying should he and Fiona part ways.

James seemed to sense what Robbie was thinking. "No, you're right. It's not nearly as bad as actually being attached." He fell silent, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

"Anything I can get you?" Robbie asked.

James frowned at him. "I couldn't ask you to run round doing errands for me."

"Of course you can," Robbie said. "I'm here. I might as well make meself useful."

"Well," James said reluctantly, "if you really don't mind, would you make me a cup of tea? I need something warm tonight."

"Be glad to," Robbie said, getting to his feet, "if you'll tell me where you keep your tea things."

James instructed Robbie, and soon Robbie was puttering away in the kitchen, making all ready. He liked making tea; it was one of the few things he knew he could prepare to the satisfaction of other people, probably because he'd had so much practise.

Robbie was pouring the tea when James spoke. "My father was right."

Robbie was always surprised when James talked about his past, but he tried not to show it. "Oh?"

"Well. He was wrong about most things that had to do with me," James said, "but he was right about one thing. He said I was just like my mother."

Robbie nodded. "Did your mam look like you?"

James shook his head. "I don't know. It's difficult for me to remember what she looked like. I know I thought she was beautiful."

"So if you're like her, you're beautiful too," Robbie said, bringing James his tea. "That's a good start."

James smiled but didn't laugh. Apparently this wasn't something to laugh about. "The way Fiona and I are…imagine a gap a hundred times bigger and you'll have my mum and dad. She was devoted to him and I'm not sure he even liked her."

Robbie remembered something James had said about someone in his family who'd attached incompletely and had died when James was young. "She was attached, wasn't she? To him."

James nodded.

"I'm sorry," Robbie said.

"I never wanted to be made that vulnerable by another person," James said. "As a rule, I tried not to need people." He gave Robbie a self-deprecating smile. "You see how good I am at that."

"I don't think that's a flaw, James," Robbie said. "People do need people, as the song says. We're social animals."

James nodded, but he didn't look particularly convinced. "I don't like it."

Robbie nodded. "Sometimes I don't either." He hesitated. "I'm sorry for what happened with us. That I dragged you into my life."

James frowned, then shook his head. "I wasn't talking about you. Or complaining. You're probably the easiest person I know to deal with."

"That's good at least," Robbie said, "but I am sorry you felt you had to attach to me."

"I was happy to do it," James said very quietly. "At least there was one of you I could help."

Robbie was aware how keenly James must still feel the loss of his mum. "I'm grateful."

"I did tell her," James said. "Fiona. I told her I'm attached to you. I didn't want there to be any misunderstandings, since I don't know if she can attach or not."

"How did she react?"

"She laughed," James said. "Said she'd never thought of that as a way to work toward promotion, but good for me."

Robbie'd never thought of that as a possibility--James completing the attachment for more cynical reasons. His stomach lurched. "You didn't."

James's hand closed around Robbie's--only for a moment, but the touch was warm and consolatory. "No. I didn't."

Robbie sighed, relieved. "Good." He checked his watch. "Well, I should probably get home. Fiona will be here any minute, and I'd rather not give her any grist for the mill."

"I understand," James said. "Thank you for coming."

"Don't let her take you out dancing," Robbie said lightly. "Give your foot time to mend."

James chuckled. "I will."

Robbie had pulled into traffic when he saw Fiona McKendrick's car coming along the opposite side of the road. She waved to him in recognition as she passed, and he waved back in response.

As always, Robbie pushed away the longing for what he truly wanted, locking it away in his mind. It didn't matter what he wanted, and it would only hurt him to keep craving something he couldn't have. His happiness was past, but there was still time for James to be happy, whether that meant Fiona treating him well or something else. If James was happy, that would make Robbie as happy as he could be.

Even if there was always that small ache inside him, needing James.


	12. Chapter 12

Tonight, when James had met Robbie outside his support group meeting, expression taciturn and stormy, Robbie had gingerly suggested that they not go for drinks. James had insisted they go, so here they were, sitting in a pub with two near-full pints before them, not saying a word to each other. James had barely spoken a word to Robbie all night.

Finally, Robbie knew he couldn't stand the silence any longer. He had to say something. "Have I done something wrong, James?"

James frowned at him. "Sorry?"

"Have I upset you? Done something you don't like?"

James sighed, body sagging forward as he did so. "I'm sorry. I'm terrible company tonight."

"It's all right," Robbie said. "D'you want to talk about it?"

James shook his head. "Not here."

"We could go to my flat," Robbie said. "You don't have to tell me either way, I just…if you're more comfortable…"

"I think I would be," James said, mercifully interrupting Robbie's inane attempts to help. "If you don't mind having someone who's not going to be in the best of moods."

Robbie raised an eyebrow. "Have I ever said you need to be cheerful for my sake?"

James did manage a rather thin smile at that. "No."

So they nursed their pints for a bit before relocating to Robbie's flat, where Robbie supplied them both with Newkie Brown.

"You can probably guess what's happened," James said, "if you haven't already."

Robbie knew it wasn't anything work-related, which only left one option. "Fiona?"

James nodded and took a gulp of his drink. "Got it in one."

Robbie grimaced. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not," James said, voice taut. "At least, I don't think I will be once I'm past this bit."

Robbie nodded sympathetically. He didn't know what to say, because he didn't think anything he could say would make it better, and he didn't want to make it worse. But he could listen, and he was happy to.

James sighed. "I don't want to think about her any more. I want to skip this part and go on to the bit where I've recovered."

"We all want that, I think," Robbie said carefully.

James nodded. "Yeah, of course." He set aside his beer. "I should go."

"No," Robbie said, surprising himself.

James looked at Robbie, waiting for him to explain.

Robbie took a deep breath. "It's no good to wallow. I've done it. I have."

"I don't know how not to," James whispered.

"Stay here," Robbie said. "We'll watch something awful and make fun of it together. Or we can watch one of those documentaries you like and you can tell me all about whatever it's about, all the stuff the documentary left out."

James snorted. "You wouldn't enjoy that."

"You're here," Robbie said. "I always enjoy that."

Something softened in James's eyes and posture, and his voice was soft too, when he spoke. "I'd really like to stay."

"Good," Robbie said, picking up the remote control and handing it to James. "Come on. You choose what we watch."

James rather diplomatically found a marathon of _The Tudors_ repeats and entertained Robbie by pointing out the historical inaccuracies, though he seemed pleased with the programme's depiction of Anne of Cleves for the most part.

"You like her," Robbie said. "Anne of Cleves."

"I do," James said. "Henry was terrible to her and about her, and she was able to find a future for herself against impossible odds."

Robbie nodded. "I know something about Henry VIII."

"What's that?" James asked, looking at Robbie with interest.

"Historians think he could attach to people he loved, but unlike most of us, he could withdraw the attachments when he changed his mind."

James's attention had been captured now. "I knew a number of his wives had attached to him, but I thought they were all incomplete attachments."

"They were at the end," Robbie said, "but they didn't start that way."

"Do you wish you had that?" James asked. "The ability to end your attachments when you want to?"

Robbie shook his head. "Nah. I've only ever had two."

James looked curious. "Your wife and me?"

Robbie nodded. "And the only reason I'd choose to end one of those is if the other person wanted me to."

"I don't," James said.

"Don't what?"

"Don't want you to end your attachment to me."

Robbie looked at James, who looked very earnest. After a strangely tense moment, James moved toward Robbie, and Robbie moved away.

"Don't," Robbie said.

James looked down, shrinking back, embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I thought…"

"And you're right," Robbie said.

"Then why?"

"Because it's still about Fiona for you. If you and I did anything, it would be because you're trying to get over her or because you want to get revenge on her." Robbie took a deep breath, trying to stop both his heart and his words racing quite so fast. "I love you, James. I would love for you to choose me someday. But I want it to be because you see me, not just someone who isn't Fiona."

James was silent for a long while, and Robbie had ample time to berate himself thoroughly. Why had he protested? Why hadn't he just let James take the comfort he needed and accepted whatever might come after that? He wouldn't blame James if he stormed off right now.

"I think you're right," James said slowly. "I think I haven't been fair to you."

Robbie didn't nod or say anything. He was too busy holding his breath, waiting to see what would come next.

James gave Robbie a slight smile. "Don't worry. I'm not leaving."

Robbie exhaled shakily and tried to look as though he'd known that all along. "Right."

"I won't do it now," James said, "but at some point…I think you know what this attachment is to you, and I'd like to find out what it is to me."

"Yeah, of course," Robbie said.

James shook his head. "Thank you for not letting me make a mess of things."

"Well, I couldn't have you doing that," Robbie said. "It's my job, making a mess of things."

It took James a moment to realise Robbie was joking, but when he did realise, he laughed aloud.

"Come on," James said. "Let's get back to Tudor England."

Robbie nodded his agreement. He wanted to do something to show his support for James, to touch his arm or hold his hand, but he knew that would be too much right now. Touch would go beyond the bounds of what James wanted. Robbie hoped that his presence and his friendship would be enough of a show of support.

"Right," Robbie said. "Tell me again why his outfit is wrong?"


	13. Chapter 13

December was a difficult time for Robbie. The rest of the year, Oxford traditions reminded him of happy experiences he'd shared with Val and the kids. Christmas used to be like that once. Not so now. The traditions only reminded him of a past he'd rather forget, one he couldn't forget no matter how he tried.

He'd tried to put on a brave face for the kids the first year. He'd put out the presents under the tree like always, and he'd done his best to make cocoa and fry-ups, just the way Val always had on Christmas morning. But it had all gone wrong. The eggs were inedible, the cocoa kept getting a nasty leathery skin on top, and when the kids had seen the presents, Lyn couldn't stop crying, and Mark stormed off to his room and slammed the door.

More than anything else, Christmas reminded Robbie of that terrible Christmas morning with his lost, broken family that was now one member too small.

He was roused from his reverie by a sharp rap on the door. Getting to his feet, Robbie ambled to the door.

James was standing outside, breathing heavily as though he'd just run all the way to Robbie's flat. "Are you all right?"

Robbie frowned. "Am I all right?"

"I…I could feel something hurting you," James panted, tapping his own chest to indicate where he'd felt it. "Here."

"Oh," Robbie said, a bit dumbfounded. He knew physical pain could travel through an attachment, but he'd no idea emotional pain could. He gestured for James to come in.

"You might as well tell me," James said anxiously. "What's wrong? Is it your heart, or some sort of indigestion?"

"No, it's not that," Robbie said. "You know that this time of year is difficult for me."

"Yes," James said, waiting for more information.

Robbie met James's eyes and gave him a significant look.

Realisation dawned on James's face. "Oh." He took a quick, impulsive step toward Robbie, then held back. "Would a hug be welcome?"

"Very." Robbie managed to say it without his voice wobbling, and in the next moment, James's arms were warm around him. Robbie closed his eyes and clung on tight. He had never imagined this…James being willing to comfort him when he'd been brought low. "I'm glad you're here."

James's embrace grew a bit closer in response. "So am I."

After a while, Robbie pulled back, sniffing slightly. "Would you like to sit down?"

James nodded, sitting close beside Robbie on the sofa and resting a tentative hand on Robbie's shoulder. "Tell me if I'm too close or…"

"Honestly, James," Robbie said slowly, "I'm not sure you could get too close for me."

"I'm not sure I could get too close for me either," James said.

Robbie turned to see if James was being sarcastic or taking the piss, but he didn't seem to be. He looked absolutely sincere. Robbie couldn't think of anything to say, so instead of saying anything, he leaned to the side, resting his head on James's shoulder. After a moment, James's arm came to rest gingerly around Robbie's shoulders.

"Afraid you'll break me?" Robbie joked.

"A little," James said, completely serious. "This is all so new to me, Robbie. I've never been attached to someone before."

Robbie lifted his head and gave James a warm smile; James blushed and tried not to smile back. "What?"

"You called me Robbie."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

Robbie snorted. "Don't be daft. You can't go on calling me sir when we're like this."

"I didn't know what was happening when I first felt…" James gestured to his chest vaguely. "I just knew something was wrong and I had to find you."

Robbie nodded. "That's what it's like for me too."

"I understand now," James said. "I used to wonder why anyone would want this, why someone would choose to attach."

"It has its advantages," Robbie said.

"I can see that," James said. "Not that knowing you're in pain is an advantage necessarily."

"It's all right," Robbie said. "I know what you mean."

"I'm not sure you do," James said. "The feeling of connection…I don't have that. Haven't had."

Robbie nodded. "Feels all right?"

"Yeah," James said, shrugging lightly. "It's all right." But his body language said it was more than all right. He rubbed Robbie's shoulder. "So. What should we do?"

"There's a programme about the French Revolution," Robbie said. "Want to fill in the blanks for me?"

"Honestly, we can watch what you want. I won't melt at the sight of Corrie."

"I want to watch the history programme," Robbie said. "I like to hear all the things you know."

James gave Robbie a shy look. "Do you?"

"Yeah," Robbie said with a nod.

"Right," James said. "French Revolution it is." He clicked on the telly. "Did you know that Louis XVI was the first French king in more than a hundred years who didn't take the throne when he was a child?"

Robbie nestled against James, getting comfortable. "No."

"What are you doing?" 

Robbie jerked upright so quickly he nearly sprained his neck. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"No, I…" James grimaced. "I didn't say I didn't like it. I just meant…I don't know what you want me to do."

"Well…" Robbie felt foolish discussing this, but he supposed that, until they worked out what was normal and natural for them, they'd have to talk about things more rather than less. Perhaps it was petty of him to think so, but Robbie didn't reckon Fiona had been much of a cuddler. "Is it all right? Having a cuddle and that?"

James nodded, looking shy again. "It is. Should I…?" He gestured helplessly.

Robbie gave James an encouraging look. "You put your arms around me and I'll lean against you, and we'll go from there."

James hugged Robbie close. "Good."

Robbie had been sure, when he'd lost Val, that he would be alone from then on. Meeting James hadn't changed that assumption; even attaching to James hadn't changed that assumption, because Robbie had been certain that James could not love him. Then, when James had completed the attachment, Robbie had believed he would be alone, because James had Fiona. Even after James and Fiona had split, Robbie had still thought he'd always be alone. He had underestimated James every step along the way, and he'd been proved absolutely wrong every step along the way. And now, contrary to both their expectations, he and James were together. And they were happy.

If Robbie had to be proved wrong about something, he was glad it was this.

"Robbie?" James whispered into his hair.

"Hmm?"

"I do love you." And the sense of drowsy warmth Robbie felt in his chest told him James was telling the absolute truth.

"I love you too, James," Robbie murmured.

From the happy little sound James made, he could feel the truth of Robbie's statement too. Maybe this December would be better after all.

Maybe a lot of things would be better.


End file.
